Through the Eyes of a Young Girl
by xLabRatx
Summary: April writes about the beginning of her additction and the mysterious Mr. Blonde. Oneshot. Yes, I am aware that's not how the song goes.


Written for speedrent challenge # 234

Pairing: April/Random Boyfriend then a little April/Roger  
Word Count: 1,205  
Notes: April's pov. Does it ever actually say anywhere that April got Roger into drugs? If it does I am sorry. And yes, I am well aware that that is not how the song goes.  
Warning: Drug use, and a smidgen of swearing.  
Disclaimer: I clearly do not own, and am not making any profit out of RENT.

The scent of his cigarette smoke made me sick. I could take it in small doses, but this?! He'd been smoking nonstop for the past 45 minutes. And we'd barely even moved. We still stood near the same tree on the edge of Tompkins Square Park. The only things that seemed to have changed were the people around us, and his attitude. As the time went on he got progressively edgy. It started with tapping his toes against the pavement. Now it had escalated to drumming his fingers on his thigh, bouncing his weight from one leg to the other, glancing up and down the path.

I looped my thumbs through my front belt loops, pulling down slightly, shoulders hunching. Letting out a sigh I squinted against the sun now bearing down on us and watched him exhale another puff of smoke. I held my breath as it drifted in my direction. It didn't help much, I could still smell it, God, I could almost taste it! My Boyfriend of the Month certainly was doing a damn good job of getting on my nerves.

First he shows up at my door early, I hadn't even gotten dressed yet. Then he drags me to this corner without so much as a "Good morning April". Fuck, only thing he said was "Hey babe. We're goin' ta meet somebody." That was it! This "somebody" hadn't even had the decency to show up almost an hour later.

I was seriously contemplating just marching my ass right on home. I could get another guy at the bar, no problem! But just as I was about to go through with it, his head perked up, eyes fixed on one person. He seemed to have found our "somebody". He tossed his cigarette to the cement, crushing it with his toe, just like the other ones. A smirk played across his attractive, yet, not-too-intelligent features.

I reached a hand up and raked my hair out of my face just as a guy sidled up and leaned coolly against our tree. This guy had dark hair, pulled up off his angular face in a ponytail. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his brown hoodie. He looked relaxed, but his darting eyes told me otherwise.

"Is that the guy…?" Boyfriend of the Month nodded fervently.

"That, babe, is The Man." He put emphasis on "the man" as if it was the guy's name, and I was supposed to know this.

He approached The Man, rubbing his hands together eagerly, like a little kid on Thanksgiving. The Man nodded casually. A few whispered words were exchanged. They shook hands, but it seemed like something had been traded for they both crammed their hands into their pockets afterwards.

After a quick nod, Boyfriend turned and walked back toward me.

"You cannot tell me we waited here all that time for _that_!"

He smirked at me, much calmer now. I could see the muscles in his arm tighten as he clenched and unclenched his fist around whatever it was in his pocket.

"What is it?" I asked him, nodding at his pocket once we finally started moving again.

He paused, pulling his fist out of his pocket. He held a small plastic baggie containing, what appeared to be sand, between his fingers.

"This, babe, is our ticket to Cloud 9."

--

A month or so later Boyfriend had moved on and been replaced. But something he taught me stayed behind.

"Just tighten the tourniquet, stick in the needle, and you're gone!"

And he was right. It worked, for a while. But it left you feeling so empty after.

So now it was me standing out by that tree every other weekend, waiting to purchase my next bag of "tickets". The dealer was The Man, and that was all we could ever hope to know about him. But we trusted him with everything.

There was always a little voice in the back of my head telling me it was wrong. The same voice that had kept me out of trouble all through high school, and then through most of college. But I didn't want to listen to it anymore.

--

Then there was that fateful day. Just a normal Saturday for me. Get up at 7:30, get dressed, walk to the park, and get breakfast on the way, if I could afford it.

It was overcast that day. The sky looked like it would just rip open at any minute and flood the city. I had always loved those kinds of days when I was growing up. On days like those I never bothered to bundle up too much. Rain like that cleansed a person, and if I ever needed cleansing, it was now. So I just threw on a pair of jeans and a black and white ripped tee and headed out the door.

By the time I reached the park I was beginning to regret not bringing my jacket. I settled myself onto the bench in plain view of the tree and waited. I drummed my fingers on the edge of the bench, smirking slightly at the irony of it all.

I was soon joined by a rather interesting looking guy. He had bleach blonde hair, straight out of a bottle. His hair was spiked up on end; his brown roots were just barely beginning to poke through. The newcomer paced back and forth near the tree, right on the edge of my field of vision. He sucked on the end of a cigarette clamped between his fingers. The smell of smoke didn't bother me as much anymore.

After a little while Mr. Blonde started to pace closer to my bench with every pass. I watched him, rubbing my arms to keep warm. He worked in a system. Take five steps, inhale through cigarette, take three more steps, exhale smoke, turn around and repeat. The closer he got, the more things I started to notice about him. His left ear was pierced. And he had long eyelashes, concealing deep hazel eyes. I found him rather intriguing, shadowy, mysterious. I vowed that I'd write about it when I got home.

The Man finally showed up and we both seemed to relax a bit. Mr. Blonde went up to him first, he didn't waste any time, he just grabbed his goods and walked away. I did the same.

As I left the park the sky decided to drop its load. It started out pretty slowly, but it picked up and pretty soon I was soaked. Forget cleansed, I was drowning. I now knew what it felt like to be a cat walking along the edge of the bathtub and then all of a sudden slip and fall in. I probably looked like one too. And just as I began to contemplate my appearance Mr. Blonde showed up almost out of nowhere.

"You gonna be ok?" he asked, actually looking genuinely concerned.

I nodded, I think. I was caught up in his eyes, which I was finally seeing in their full intensity for the first time.

What I do remember is him draping his jacket across my shoulders and leaning in to speak quietly in my ear.

"I'm Roger."

"April."


End file.
